


Mr Norrell's Breeches

by Nefertiti_22002



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Anal Fingering, Frigging, M/M, Magical (though unintentional) seduction, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Predatrix, in response to a request for a birthday fic involving Mr Norrell being embarrassed by a spell he casts, having no idea that it has to do with sex. </p><p>Mr Norrell was only trying to find a way to repair his favourite breeches. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Norrell's Breeches

One day in the Darkness, as Jonathan Strange was working diligently at the large central table in the Hurtfew Abbey library, Mr Norrell entered, carrying a rather threadbare pair of breeches. 

“Mr Strange, do you by any chance have any skill in repairing garments? My favourite, most comfortable breeches have split a seam, and in a rather embarrassing place.”

Mr Strange shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Arabella used to sew my garments when they needed it, or perhaps she gave them to one of the maids. I never paid any attention. Even when I was away at the war, there was usually someone among the common soldiers who had the necessary skill to do the task for me in exchange for some little present.”

“Drat! It is times like this when we suffer most from the lack of servants.”

Mr Strange looked at him with some exasperation, given that he was the one who did most of the cooking and manual labour around the house, but he said nothing.

Mr Norrell stood sadly examining the seat of the aged breeches. “I do so hate to throw these away. There is plenty of good wear left in them, if only I could …” He looked around at the book-shelves. “I do not suppose that any magic spells exist to do such mundane work. It reminds me of that silly rumour that started in London long ago, when it was claimed by some rascal that my magical feat in York had merely consisted of doing laundry for housewives. Really! Why would they need such help? Hmmm, I do remember a spell that might be related to my present need. But where …”

Mr Strange went back to his work as Mr Norrell wandered along the shelves and finally spotted a book that might be the one he was looking for. He pulled it down and sat on the sopha to read. After only a short time, he said delightedly, “Yes! Here it is. Oh, it sounds fortuitously appropriate to the little task I need to do. A simple spell, giving me just enough skill to sew up this seam.”

Mr Strange did not glance up from his work but murmured absently, “Good, good. Very fortunate.”

Mr Norrell made a list of the items required for the spell. They were an odd combination of things that seemed very appropriate to the subject of the magic and others that seemed completely irrelevant. Buttons were specified—loose buttons, not stitched to a garment. Hot pepper. Fresh, highly scented flowers (though a bottle of perfume could be substituted.) A dash of brandy. There were a few other things, but they were all easily obtained. He left the library in search of them and returned little over an hour later carrying a tray which held everything he needed.

He laid the objects and ingredients out neatly on his desk, read the spell over silently to himself a few times, and then pronounced it slowly and clearly in a soft voice. Magic clearly occurred. He could feel it. And yet to his surprise he still had little idea of how to sew up a split seam on a pair of breeches, beyond the obvious fact that it somehow involved a needle and thread. He sighed in disappointment. An idea occurred to him. Perhaps the spell itself did the mending rather than teaching him how to do it. He walked over to the sopha but found that the gaping slit in the breeches’ seam remained as it had been. He sighed again and slid his fingertips over the well-worn cloth that had felt so pleasant against his thighs. 

He turned rather forlornly and discovered that Mr Strange had stopped working and was staring at him, a puzzled frown distorting what Mr Norrell had always considered a very beautiful face. Mr Strange stood up slowly and came to face him.

“Sir, are you truly sure you want this?”

“I beg your pardon, Mr Strange. Want to mend my breeches myself? I … I realize it is not a task worthy of a gentleman, quite the contrary, but, well, ‘needs must when the Devil drives,’ as the saying goes. If I wish ever to be able to wear these highly comfortable breeches again, I must perforce deal with the problem myself. After all, as long as we are trapped in the Darkness, which may be the case for a good long time, we shall have to do things—”

Mr Strange made a dismissive gesture. “No doubt, no doubt. That, however, is a minor matter in comparison with the point at hand, which is, are you certain that you wish to have … such intimate relations with me?”

Mr Norrell’s eyes widened and he took a small step backwards. “Intimate … Good Lord, Mr Strange! Are you referring to …” He paused, breathing heavily before continuing, “… amorous congress?” He blushed beet red.

“Exactly. I had never expected such a desire on your part. You never hinted at any thing of the sort. And yet now I am quite convinced that you want me in that way.”

“Oh, dear, no, Mr Strange. I … I am a gentleman, and I consider that such relations are only respectable within the bonds of matrimony. I have never desired to marry. Indeed, I believe that the lofty calling of magic is absorbing enough that a magician who seriously professes it should not marry at all. In the old days, I several times remarked to Childermass that I felt you should not have married—”

“Aha! So you do wish that I were not bound by my marital vows to remain faithful to Arabella.”

“Well, uh, yes, but for purely professional reasons, I assure you! After all, even men like me who are not married cannot legitimately indulge in the sorts of activities outside the marital bed to which you refer—and especially not with other men! I am shocked to hear you suggest that I should wish to lure you into doing so or that I should wish to do so myself.”

“I was rather shocked to discover that you should desire such a thing.” Mr Strange looked Mr Norrell up and down. “That shock, however, has worn off to a considerable degree. I find myself not wholly averse to the prospect of giving in to your seduction.”

“Seduction!” Mr Norrell squeaked. “I have made no attempt whatsoever to convince you to have … amorous congress with me!”

“Only because you are too respectable, I assume—too respectable to act upon your evident desires,” said Mr Strange, and he stepped suddenly forward, enveloped Mr Norrell in a tight embrace and kissed him passionately.

Mr Norrell’s confusion increased. Why was Mr Strange doing this? As time passed, he discovered that he cared less and less about the answer to that question. The movements of Mr Strange’s warm lips against his and the unfamiliar delving of Mr Strange’s tongue into his now wide-open mouth were absorbing all of his attention. He noticed that they were causing sensations within his breeches similar to those that he felt quite often alone at night in his bed—sensations that led him to satisfy his own desires. He had frequently thought of Mr Strange while doing so, but his imagination had clearly not conjured up any thing to match the excitement of the man’s current and very real attentions to him.

Mr Norrell’s arms were pinned at his sides by Mr’s Strange’s, but he managed to wriggle them somewhat loose, enough to slip them around Mr Strange and hug him in return. Even in the hazy state of arousal into which he was drifting, he detected a large, hard object pressed against his stomach, and he realized with a shock that it must be the other magician’s private member. The thought made him begin to squirm against Mr Strange, seeking to rub his own equally firm erection against the man.

Just as Mr Norrell was afraid that his knees would no longer support him, Mr Strange walked him backward the few steps to the sopha and lowered him to sit slumped against the back. Mr Strange unbuttoned his breeches, the second-most comfortable pair he owned, and pulled them unceremoniously off, followed by the lower part of his smallclothes. He pushed Mr Norrell’s knees wide and knelt between them. To the older magician’s astonishment, he leaned down and took most of the erect member into his mouth. 

For a while Mr Norrell knew nothing but bliss and a desire for it to go on forever, mixed with a desperate urge for it to build rapidly and flood over him. Then Mr Strange abruptly stopped. Mr Norrell’s eyes flew open and he gave a little moan of severe disappointment. 

“Wait,” said Mr Strange, as he stuck the middle finger of one hand into his mouth.

“Please,” Mr Norrell said pathetically.

To his relief, Mr Strange resumed licking and sucking on his cock, but this time there was an odd additional sensation. Something, presumably Mr Strange’s finger, was pressing at a very intimate and unmentionable part of his body, and suddenly it moved inside.

“Mr Strange, that’s not very pleasant!” he said nervously.

“Just wait,” Strange said again.

Since he had little choice if he wanted Mr Strange’s mouth to return to what it had been doing, Mr Norrell did wait. It turned out that he did not need to do so long, for unexpectedly a searing pleasure greater than any he had ever experienced jolted through him. He uttered a harsh groan and then another and so on, as Mr Strange’s finger kept doing something miraculous inside him. Finally Mr Strange’s mouth took him in deeper and sucked hard, and he launched into a long, exquisite and very noisy climax.

Mr Strange sat back on his heels and watched him with a grin as he huffed and gasped and blearily opened his eyes. “How did you do that?” he asked shakily.

“It’s not all that difficult. Men have a special place a little way in there that … well, let’s say it gives them a great deal of pleasure when it is pressed or rubbed.”

“It does indeed! I think I’ve been doing this wrong all these years,” he added ruefully.

“Well, it’s rather awkward, doing it for yourself. Besides, it's almost impossible to discover on your own. Much better to have someone else do it.”

He rose and sat down beside Mr Norrell, drawing him close as he continued to catch his breath and enjoy his afterglow. Eventually he noticed that Mr Strange’s erection had not diminished and was quite apparent in his breeches.

“Oh, I must take care of you now! Except … I’m not sure …”

“Don’t worry, sir. I don’t expect you to try doing what I did.” He unbuttoned his breeches flap and lowered it. He pushed his smallclothes down and brought out his very erect member.

“Oh, Mr Strange,” said Mr Norrell staring in delight and fascination at his cock. “That is most impressive.” He reached out and stroked the shaft lightly. 

Mr Strange gave a long sigh and closed his eyes. “You’ve frigged yourself often enough, I suppose. Just do that for me, and I shall be very happy.”

“May I touch it with my mouth first?”

Mr Strange opened his eyes again and grinned at him. “As much as you wish, Mr Norrell.” He gave Mr Norrell a quick kiss and laid his head on the back of the sopha.

Mr Norrell slid down until he could lick the tip of Mr Strange’s member as he ran his fingers over the shaft. Both felt very pleasant, and he almost believed that if he hadn’t come so recently, he would begin to get hard again. He explored the considerable length slowly and even felt and licked Mr Strange’s balls. 

Mr Strange made soft humming noises during all this, and he stroked Mr Norrell’s head and back. Finally he murmured, “Now your hand, Mr Norrell. I very much need to come.” He pulled gently on Mr Norrell’s shoulder until the man was sitting against him again.

Mr Norrell began to stroke the shaft, squeezing harder when Mr Strange urged him to and pulling faster when Mr Strange begged him to. Mr Strange uttered a stifled groan, and his seed erupted in a series of spurts that fell onto his shirt before the last little spasms of pleasure produced drops that ran down over Mr Norrell’s fingers.

Again there was an interval of cuddling and afterglow-enjoyment, as well as panting on Mr Strange’s part—and to a lesser extent on Mr Norrell’s, since frigging such a large cock so very quickly was a bit strenuous for a man not used to exercise. 

As their breathing returned to normal, guilt began to intrude on Mr Norrell's utter bliss and contentment. He looked worriedly at Mr Strange. “What … what in the world came over you, Mr Strange? I would never have expected such advances from a married gentleman. Is it simply the effect of our having been in the Darkness for a time, without your having any one else present to help you satisfy your, um, physical desires?”

Mr Strange shook his head in sheer puzzlement. “I don’t think so. The urge came upon me so very suddenly. I was completely certain—I don’t know how—that you wanted me, and the very idea made me want you.” He looked thoughtfully at Mr Norrell. “I was not paying much attention, but you cast a spell just before we started to … did you not?”

“Yes, but it had nothing to do with … amorous congress. Again, I assure you, such a thing would never occur to me. Though you are cut off from your wife for an indefinite time, you are married, after all.” He paused, blushing. “Even if … I did desire you, I would never stoop to employing a magical spell to lure you into breaking your marital vows.”

“No, I am quite convinced that you would not. Could you show me the spell you used, please?”

“Certainly.” Mr Norrell rose and went to retrieve the spell from his desk. Returning, he handed it to Mr Strange and sat down beside him again. “As you can see, it was written on a sheet of paper. I found it between the pages of a book. It seems quite simple and straightforward, don’t you think?”

Mr Strange read out, “A spell to allow a lonely man to make a stitch.” 

“Yes, well, here I am alone, that is, without a wife or servants, and so I hoped to learn how to sew up a seam.”

Mr Strange laughed softly. “To ‘make a stitch’ can mean something quite different. I heard it occasionally from some of my classmates at the university.”

“Really? What is that?”

“It’s an indirect way of referring to having an affair, an intimate romantic one, that is, but usually quite a brief, casual one—one evening, in fact. And a ‘lonely man’ might well be one whose desires lead him to wish for a willing partner.”

“Oh, dear! I had no idea, of course. What a dreadful, devious spell! We must destroy it. Well, at least file it among the most dangerous magical texts. You must forgive me, Mr Strange, but I know so little of the world and especially of the more sordid aspects of society. Such underhanded seduction would be abhorrent to me. You must concede that it is a very misleading title to give a spell!”

“It is indeed, and I do not blame you in the slightest, sir. Your motives were wholly unobjectionable.” He looked at Mr Norrell briefly with a fond little smile and suddenly put his arm around the other magician’s shoulders, pulling him close, He hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I must admit, sir … Gilbert, if I may—I am not at all displeased that you made this innocent mistake.”

“Are you not, Mr Strange? Does that imply that the, um, romantic affair that we have had might turn out not to be so casual after all?”

“You mean, might we do this again without casting the spell? Many times, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes! That is exactly what I mean. I should very much like that! But are you sure that you wish to violate your marriage vows of your own volition, without the inducement of a wicked spell?”

“Yes! I must admit, while sleeping in my lonely bed here in the Darkness, I have gradually begun to imagine us becoming much closer to each other. In fact, I seriously thought a time or two of trying out the idea on you, but I was so convinced that you were not interested in such things that I dared not. Now, however …” He kissed Mr Norrell’s cheek again.

“Oh, my dear Lord, what a wonderful outcome to such a very untoward occurrence!”

They both sighed happily, and Mr Norrell cuddled against Mr Strange. They sat contentedly for a while, becoming somewhat drowsy and beginning to contemplate a pre-dinner nap—and not in separate beds.

Mr Norrell glanced lazily at the old breeches, still lying nearby, draped over the arm of the sopha. 

“Well, I still do not know how to sew up the seat of my breeches. I might as well throw them away.”

Mr Strange looked at him in surprise. “But they were your favourite garment.”

Mr Norrell looked up at him adoringly. “Yes, but I would much rather have had the spell turn out as it did! In comparison, who cares about an old pair of breeches?” 

Mr Strange looked thoughtful and a little mischievous. “Well, Gilbert, it occurs to me that they might come in handy on cold days. I could perform a type of amorous congress on you, one which I hope to introduce you to soon, and you could remain almost completely clothed and warm!”

He whispered at some length into Mr Norrell’s ear. Mr Norrell looked shocked and uncertain at first, but as Mr Strange went on, he began to smile, and by the end he was positively beaming.

“Oh, Mr Strange! If what you say is true, I think these breeches will require no sewing to remain my favourite garment."


End file.
